


Chūnibyō! Transmigration and Other Ninjutsu!

by Yujina



Category: Naruto
Genre: Bullying, Honōka isn't edgy either, JOKES ON ME, SI/OC as Uchiha Sasuke, Savant Syndrome, Transmigration, because it wasn't edgy enough, chūnibyō syndrome, eidetic memory, neurodivergent characters, the Honōka prototype I scraped
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:28:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28473180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yujina/pseuds/Yujina
Summary: Chūnibyō, a Japanese colloquial term translating as ‘middle two disease’, also known as eighth-grader syndrome. Those affected by the disease often suffer from delusions of grandeur. Common examples include, but are not limited to, having secret or esoteric knowledge; having a hidden ability; superpowers.Sakaido Kyōji dies on July 15th.Uchiha Sasukedoesn'tdie, per se, but neither does helive.Kyōji, a boy without a body, takes the wheel.
Relationships: Dai-nana-han | Team 7 & Hatake Kakashi, Uchiha Sasuke & Uzumaki Naruto
Comments: 53
Kudos: 147





	1. Sakaido of the Demon Eye!

**Author's Note:**

> Before there was Honōka, there was a boy named Sakaido Kyōji. He walked so that Honōka could run. Please enjoy the pilot chapters of Chūnibyō! Transmigration and Other Ninjutsu!

_Chūnibyō, a Japanese colloquial term translating as ‘middle two disease’, also known as eighth-grader syndrome. Those affected by the disease often suffer from delusions of grandeur. Common examples include, but are not limited to, having secret or esoteric knowledge; having a hidden ability; superpowers._

* * *

It’s July 15th, the week before summer break begins. 

Sakaido Kyōji hums, a spring in his step as he heads to the PPC clubroom. This year, he did reasonably well on his finals. No summer remedial classes for him, no sir!

He’ll also brag to anyone willing to listen that his efforts to train his All-Seeing Eye were a major success—the key, even, to his unexpectedly good grades this term. Thanks to vigorous training, he’s now able to visualize the textbooks for his course work, front to back.

And it’s not just memorization! _Non!_ His All-Seeing Eye is two, no three, steps better than that!

Not only can he see pages from their textbooks in his mind’s eye, he can take math formulae and match them to their answer with absolute certainty. He didn’t get a single multiple choice wrong this year! Sure, his long answer questions suffered a little, but he never said he mastered his All-Seeing Eye. Maybe next year!

But that’s a problem for next year—or when class resumes in September.

First up, summer vacation! He and the other members of the Paranormal Pursuits Club are going camping with Tōdō-senpai’s older brother to look for UFOs, and he can’t wait! UFOs aren’t really his thing, but the entire club is going, all five members. 

Small clubs are great, he thinks. Last year he was in the anime club. No one ever did anything together.

He throws the door open to the clubroom, the usual body odour wafting out from the poorly air-conditioned room. They really need to fix the AC.

“Tōdō-senpai! Good afternoon!”

Tōdō-senpai’s face scrunches up, glasses sliding down the perspiration on his nose. His tongue sticks out as he concentrates on his phone. He’s been religiously playing a new RPG.

Kyōji opens his mouth to apologize for interrupting. 

“Shh, Sakaido—I’m on a role here.”

Shima-senpai grunts in the background. He’s fanning himself with a handmade paper fan while he pokes at his bento. 

The other guys are absent; they’re stuck organizing remedial tests with their homeroom teachers. No one studied with him this year either. A shame—he could have taught them the military method.

“Ne, ne! I asked my mom and she said I could go with you guys on the camping trip. What time are we meeting?”

“Ah, shit!” Tōdō-senpai’s game be-boops sadly. “That was my last life!”

Kyōji winces, _oops,_ and rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry, Tōdō-senpai. Say, when are we meeting for the camping trip?”

Tōdō-senpai starts another game.

“Ah, about that. My brother’s van only seats five, you know? Gotta have space for the tents and stuff.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I can take the bus and meet you guys there?”

“Ahh, that’s, you know? That’s a lot to ask of Aniki. He’s already got to watch me and the rest of the guys.”

“Oh. Right.” Kyōji feels himself deflate. “Yeah, it wouldn’t be fair to ask your brother to take on more than he can handle…? I understand.”

“Yeah, it’s good that you do, Sakaido. Maybe some other time.”

“Right…! Um, I’m just going to go to the cafeteria, see if they have any yakisoba-pan left.”

He backs out the door, waving to his senpai.

“Yeah, you do that, Sakaido-kun.” Shima-senpai waves back.

Tōdō-senpai goes back to his game, snorting as the door closes.

Kyōji stands awkwardly on the other side, stomach twisting, and sees the expression Tōdō-senpai made play on repeat on the flaking paint of the clubroom door. 

He’s… not that good at reading facial expressions. 

Like, he’s pretty sure that churning feeling in his gut only happens when people don’t tell the full truth or even lie to his face outright.

But it doesn’t happen when his homeroom teacher, Miyaki-sensei, tries to tell him that his All-Seeing Eyes are just a phase he’s going through—and, clearly, they’re not. He’s been working on them for years, and they’re getting better. He could even tell that Kohinata-kun gained two kilograms between last January and the start of eighth grade. Kyōji’s great at approximating weights based on height and stuff.

And Tōdō-senpai is his friend… it just… wasn’t going to work out this time. Maybe if he had gotten his mom to agree sooner, yeah.

He turns and heads for the stairs.

Some third years are sitting on the steps, eating their lunch in one of the few locations that has a reliable air conditioning unit. But only in the summer. The stairwell is hot as hell the rest of the year.

“Look, it’s Sakaido of the Demon Eye!”

There’s a round of laughter and Kyōji does his best to stamp out the fire he feels in his ears.

In his defense, when he was younger, he thought he could only memorize stuff with his right eye. Now he knows better and trains both eyes.

He steels himself to walk past them, tuning out any further taunting. He chants his usual mantra in his head.

_I have a gift that nobody can take from me, but me. I have a gift that nobody can take from me, but me!_

Because, honestly—he doesn’t care if it’s a psychic power or vigorous self-conditioning like Doctor Hanabusa tells him. It’s his, and he worked hard for it.

_It’s not shameful! It’s not embarrassing!_

He takes the first step and feels a hand snake around his ankle.

Shocked, he misses the next step and tumbles forwards. He pitches head over heels and the world spins.

There are a few screams. He thinks he hears someone throw up—and another person crying. There’s the rapid and heavy footfalls of several people running at once.

_“Emi-chan, why’d you grab him?!”_

_“I didn’t! Kaoru-chan did it!”_

_“I was sitting on the other side!”_

His head kind of hurts, and he feels like he’s underwater. He can’t even work his aching jaw. But nothing else hurts too bad. 

He’s just winded—he thinks he rolled more than anything. It’ll probably hurt bad when the shock wears away.

Then he blinks, and he’s looking up the second flight of steps. 

Wow, he thinks. He rolled down both sets of steps.

Kyōji means to sit up, but nothing happens. He blinks, and something’s not quite right. He struggles to open his eyes again. Everything is fuzzy, and he can taste blood but can’t swallow.

Just breathe, he thinks. _You’ll feel better if you take a deep breath and just let it be._ Hanabusa-sensei’s words.

He can’t breathe.


	2. Uchiha Sasuke (of the Copy Wheel Eye)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Transmigration, specifically of the soul. The soul passes into a different body after death._

He died.

It wasn’t hard, or even very painful. His life—over in a matter of seconds.

He just died. Game over.

…

Kyōji opens his eyes.

_Oh—I didn’t die after all._

What a relief, he thinks. Thank goodness.

…?

He feels heavy. Tired. Weak.

He blinks and turns his head, feeling his eyebrows scrunch up in confusion. The ugly mint green paint and wooden half wall paneling are so dated, he thinks. The entire room is outdated.

He pinches his eyes shut and summons the image of the only other hospital room he’s ever been admitted to. Last year, he was hospitalized for a concussion after falling in the sports festival. 

He remembers more machines flickering and beeping. Logos on equipment and everything a worn out kind of beige—uniform and soft about the edges. 

This room is so retro it offends the eyes. 

He sizes up the equipment. It’s practically archaic, and there’re no logos on anything either.

There’s an IV poking out of his left hand. He grimaces. Kyōji hates needles.

…

His hand is… small.

The door to his room opening drags his attention away. A nurse enters with a clipboard, pencil scratching across paper.

She’s wearing a white uniform, a short sleeve dress with a hood. Why a hood? He thinks it’s a rather odd choice for a nursing uniform.

She glances up and their eyes meet.

Her expression flits through a range of complicated emotions that he doesn’t have the attention span to sort. He thinks, maybe, that it settles on guilt? Pity?

The nurse bows her head and ducks out of the room as quickly as she came, leaving Kyōji doubly confused.

A moment later, a man with long blond hair tied in a ponytail enters. And if he thought the nurse’s outfit was strange, then this guy’s clothes are absolutely bizarre. 

He’s wearing a sleeveless red haori over an almost military green vest, and a forehead protector. A real-life forehead protector, with a familiar engraving.

He’s trying to remember where he’s seen it before, but is drawing a blank. It’s on the tip of his tongue. It’s like he knows what it is, but also doesn’t?

The simplest answer is, _it’s the village’s symbol._ The hard part isn’t explaining how he knows that or where he’s seen it, but how he knows he’s seen it _every day of his life._

The blond-haired man is speaking to him, but he’s busy sorting out his thoughts. 

Kyōji thinks something is very wrong with him. 

He’s lived in an urban city neighborhood his entire life. And yet, he has memories of scratching Konoha’s leaf symbol on the engawa of a half-traditional/half-modern home. 

…

_Otō-san scolding him with a heavy set scowl._

…

But he’s never met his father. Didn’t have one as far as he’s concerned. His mother had him by herself.

…

_Okā-san folding smoked skipjack tuna into his onigiri for his bento. She raps his knuckles when he tries to sneak a taste._

…

But his mother’s never worn her hair that long, or made him lunch before. She works long hours and sends him to school with money instead.

…

_“Sasuke-chan,”_

…

“Sasuke-kun, are you with me?”

…

_“Have fun at the Academy today, ah, don’t forget your bento!”_

…

He tears his eyes away from the leaf symbol of the hitai-ate; the man’s lips move as if in slow motion. He hears him, but the words are slow and exaggerated, gibberish. He can’t focus on them. 

Instead, he sees the cracks in the man’s lips, the taste buds on his tongue. He sees the blond stubble just barely peeking out on his freshly shaved chin.

A couple seconds pass. It feels like minutes. The lines bend and blur and the room spins. He feels motion sick.

“Sasuke-kun?”

 _That’s me,_ Kyōji thinks. _I’m Sasuke. Uchiha Sasuke._

That name means something to him, something to Sakaido Kyōji. He should know what it means, but it keeps slipping away from him.

…

_“Forgive me, Sasuke, maybe next time.”_

…

He’s assaulted by the vision of a boy his age, his nī-san, spattered in blood so thick it runs off his face in rivets. He stands above their parents, dead, ninjatō dripping.

_“Foolish otōto.”_

The room is suddenly dyed in red and he’s retching bile over the side of the bed, shaking apart.

“S-Sharingan!” the blond man stutters, taking an actual step back—as if he’s the one who is afraid.

Kyōji is shaking so hard and he knows it can’t be right, safe, _normal._ He tastes blood, hot and tangy, because he just bit his tongue—and while he can see the room in glaring clarity, albeit in shades of red, the image of his nī-san slaughtering everyone in Uchiha-ku is superimposed over the mundane hospital room.

Bodies fall and he knows the names of faces he’s never seen before, but has, every single day of his life. He sees his mother and father lying in pools of blood—they aren’t _his_ parents—but they _are!_

Uchiha Itachi monologues at him about weakness and hatred and it’s such a betrayal to everything they were, but it’s not, but it _is!_ It’s a tug-o-war of feelings and memories that are his and aren’t his, and the blond-haired man is now helping restrain him to the bed while two nurses try to stick him with a needle he’s rather violently rejecting.

And, in the stillness of the moment that follows when they’ve jabbed him full of sedative, he thinks it’s rather odd that his/not his nī-san has tear tracks drying down his face.

He blinks and the redness drains away. A nurse is propping up his numb body and prizing his mouth open, flashlight in one gloved hand as she inspects the damage he’s done to his tongue. He blinks again and the room is quiet and still, one nurse sitting tensely in a chair off to the side.

He shuts his eyes.

 _This is bad,_ he thinks.

* * *

_Transmigration, specifically of the soul. The soul passes into a different body after death._


	3. Uchiha Sasuke/Sakaido Kyōji

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sasuke-kun, do you think you’re ready to talk about what happened?”

Kyōji grabs onto consciousness with a jolt. 

He slits his eyes open, taking in his surroundings. Still the same hospital room. He squeezes his eyes shut again.

He breathes in and just lets himself be.

He’s not Uchiha Sasuke (he is), he’s Sakaido Kyōji. Uchiha Sasuke is a character from an anime.

Thanks to his excursion in the anime club last year, he’s at least familiar with the concept of isekai. He’s not sure if this classifies as a transition or a reincarnation, though. Probably a transition, and he’s somehow hijacked Uchiha Sasuke’s body.

The biggest issue is that _Naruto_ is a bit before his time. 

Kyōji knows some things about _Naruto_ —but not much. He knows that unlike in Bleach (also before his time, but _swords!),_ characters actually seem to die and stay dead, for the most part, in this series.

Now he’s somehow become Uchiha Sasuke, and while he’s strangely familiar with what it means to be an Uchiha, he doesn’t have the peace of mind to know where he’s going as a character in another world.

The manga ended six-ish years ago. The anime three. There’s a next generation style anime out about the kids of characters from the original series.

What he knows is that Naruto is the main character. Sasuke runs away to get stronger because he’s an avenger, or something. There’s a time skip, and then things get really hardcore. Oh, and they save the world from an evil goddess and then everyone is happy and gets married and has kids, which is just plain boring. A lot of the kids in the anime club were _Boruto_ fans despite all that.

He swallows. His tongue tastes stale and feels raw.

It’s probably time to stop avoiding the inevitable and he blinks his eyes rapidly, rubbing the dry sting out of them with the back of his wrist.

He sits up and examines his hands. He noticed it before, but he’s smaller than he should be. He’s younger, which sucks. He was just starting his growth spurt before this happened.

The IV is still poking out of his left hand and he sees the bag of fluid is almost empty. He remembers a nurse appearing right as the fluid got low from his last time spent in a modern hospital. Someone will be by soon to check on him. Maybe?

Either way, he props himself up a little straighter and musters some dignity for his tiny shoulders. He preoccupies himself with looking out the window while he waits.

Ten minutes later, a nurse enters. She’s the taller one from before with the crooked front tooth, who helped hold him down. He’s surprised he remembers, considering he was having a panic attack, or a seizure, at the time.

The strange is his/isn’t his knowledge supplies that the Sharingan perfectly records and remembers all visual memories.

“Oh, good to see you awake, Sasuke-kun,” she licks her lips. “How are you feeling today, Sasuke-kun?”

He bows, carefully. He doesn’t want to overbalance himself or trigger that insane motion sickness from before.

“I’m feeling much better, thank you.” He demurs. 

Part of him feels cold and detached and angry—a combination he balks at. That’s the part that is/isn’t himself. He himself is still processing his shock and working through a ton of incredulity over his current scenario. The part of himself that’s found the capacity to respond is operating on autopilot and half-remembered manners.

The nurse relaxes. His panic attack from before was probably as scary to witness secondhand as it was to experience it firsthand.

“Do you feel like having breakfast, Sasuke-kun?”

He nods. “Yes, please.” He’s starving.

She changes his IV and straightens out the sheets he’s kicked about with his tossing and turning and asks if he’d like another blanket or pillow. Then she leaves for his breakfast.

Another unfamiliar nurse enters a moment later. She bows and introduces herself, and he greets her back. She sits in the chair at the foot of his bed. He thinks she’s here to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself or have another episode.

He eats, and when the IV runs out again, the nurse checks his blood pressure and removes the needle in his arm. They encourage him to get up and shower and hand him a clean set of hospital scrubs to change into.

They’re handling him very gently, so by the time he gets back into bed and settled and the two of them are still suspiciously quiet, he knows something is up.

Well, a lot of things are up, he thinks. He knows his entire clan has been murdered by his brother, and many people are probably wondering why. Including himself. Both himself.

They gently break it to him that there are some people who would like to talk to him about the circumstances of his hospitalization.

He nods and sits up straighter. The taller nurse points out the call button and tells him to press it if he needs them. He thanks her again.

They leave with quick bows, and the blond-haired man from before enters with a younger man with two large facial scars.

Now, he bows to the blond-haired man. “Sorry for troubling you.”

The blond man waves him off and apologizes as well, for whatever reason. Now they’ve both apologized and are just awkwardly staring at each other. Kyōji wonders if Sasuke should recognize this man—and him not being familiar is making things more awkward.

“Sasuke-kun, do you know who I am?”

He hesitates, because he realizes he does (doesn’t) know this man.

“…Yamanaka-sama, right?” he’s a clan head. Part of a triad or something.

“Ah, so you do remember me! It’s been quite some time since we last met, Sasuke-kun.”

He dips his head again, working the inside of his cheek with his teeth a bit. He’s so nervous!

“This is Morino Ibiki. He’s here as my back up today, in case we run into any problems.” Again.

Morino Ibiki is familiar to him, but not to _him._ So he’s probably someone that Sasuke has never met, but a character that Kyōji vaguely remembers from the anime club.

He looks tough, so he just assumes he’s there in case they need help holding him down again. The nurses were able to help last time. But he has a feeling they’re non-shinobi—softer and more breakable compared to even young Sasuke.

“Sasuke-kun, do you think you’re ready to talk about what happened?”

His eye twitches and there’s a dry burning again, accompanied by slight blurring. He doesn’t begin seeing things in shades of red, so he knows the Sharingan hasn’t activated, luckily.

He swallows and nods.

He doesn’t want to be affected by what they’re going to discuss, but he realizes that’s not up to _just_ him. He’s Sakaido Kyōji—but he’s also Uchiha Sasuke.

Yamanaka-sama clears his throat.

“We’ll start from the beginning, okay, Sasuke-kun?”

Another stiff nod.

“On July 15th, you stayed late to the Academy for extra practice. Do you remember why?”

The first thing July 15th brings to mind is a clubroom with no AC and a stairwell with too much AC. He bites his lip and hopes something relevant comes to him.

It works.

“I was practicing my shuriken throw with Mizuki-sensei.”

“Aye, you’re top of the class in shurikenjutsu.” Yamanaka-sama replies. “You don’t normally stay for extra practice though, do you, Sasuke-kun?”

He scrunches up his eyebrows. He doesn’t understand why that’s a detail worth bringing attention to, until he realizes that it is a rather irregular thing for Sasuke to do, even on a whim.

“I… I was practicing hitting the targets in blind spots,” because that is _not_ an ambitious aspiration, at all. “Nī-san promised to teach me a new jutsu if I mastered it.” 

He blinks. His eyes are watering, but still burning.

“Nī-san… Itachi-nī, was supposed to help me with it, but he was busy.” His lower lip wobbles and he lets out a shaky breath. “I was going to show him I could learn it on my own when I got home.”

His heart twists behind his ribs. When he… went home?

“Ikkaku and Tobiume weren’t at the gates when I got in though, and the lanterns weren’t lit either.”

His knees find their way up to his chest and he presses his eyes into his lap to shove the ache away. He’s hyperventilating now, imagining the _drip-drip_ of blood and the muffled thumps of limp bodied hitting the ground.

Kyōji didn’t actually live through these memories, but it sure feels like he did.

“Sasuke-kun… may I use my clan’s jutsu on you?”

He tenses up, about to shake his head no—because it’d be terrible if someone reads his mind right now—and it’s while he’s muddling through his/not his knowledge of the Yamanaka clan jutsu that Yamanaka-sama places his hand on top of Sasuke’s head.

He freezes, and a burning rush sweeps over him from head to toe.

_‘Yamanaka Inoichi—get out of my otōto’s head.’_

It’s Itachi’s voice—his nī-san’s voice. Kyōji isn’t even that alarmed. Itachi was a good brother, mostly. Minus the murdering the whole clan part. He’s pretty sure there was a reason for it—probably not a good reason, but a reason nonetheless.

Sasuke freaks out.

He slaps his hands over his ears and screams, terrified by his brother’s cool voice suddenly sounding in his head. The _drip-drip_ of blood and muffled thumps from bodies is back again, and a red tint at the edge of his sight.

Yamanaka-sama stumbles back, holding his temple, as if struck.

Ibiki steadies Inoichi.

“Yamanaka-sama, what happened?!”

“It was a genjutsu trap,” Inoichi explains. “I triggered it by attempting to access the boy’s mind.”

That familiar, prickly anger that he associates with _him_ (not him), is bubbling up. Kyōji’s kind of pissed off, too. Like, who invades another person’s mind without permission?

“Get out!”

“Sasuke-kun…”

“GET OUT!”

He screams and flips the bedside table and makes a mess of things. He hasn’t thrown a tantrum like this since he was, well, since he was eight.

Ibiki grabs a flailing arm and flips him on his stomach. He’s so angry that he feels like he could spit fire. Thankfully, he doesn’t.

“Ibiki-kun, let him up. I overstepped.”

Ibiki lets him go, but he stays on the ground huffing and puffing.

“I’m sorry, Sasuke-kun. That was presumptive of me.”

“Get out.”


	4. Belongings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyōji goes through every drawer, trying hard not to feel like he’s intruding—these are his crappy turtlenecks now, yeah!—and stumbles upon a jinbei. It’s navy with thin stripes and slightly too big. It used to be Itachi’s.

He stays at the hospital for a few more days and is then released. Kyōji stands under the outside awning for a moment before setting out into the blistering August heat. 

With a start, he realizes he turned eight the week before last. He shares the same birthday as Uchiha Sasuke—July 23rd. Only Kyōji should be fourteen instead.

He finds his way to Uchiha-ku without difficulty. Forcing himself to walk past the threshold is another thing entirely. He gets there, eventually. 

Sasuke’s memories belong to him in the same way that Kyōji’s memories do. He sometimes struggles with feelings and emotions that he wants to say aren’t his—but, just because they aren’t _his,_ doesn’t mean they aren’t real. He still _feels_ them.

Under a clear sky, Uchiha-ku is marginally less frightening. There’s no drip-drip or bodies or older brother’s with swords. Just, silence.

He tries the door to his house and finds it locked, then snorts. There’s a spare key hidden under a sealed rock by the front porch. Of course, only an Uchiha can pick up said rock.

Kyōji retrieves the key and lets himself in.

They’ve cleaned everything up. The only sign of his parents’ murder is the visibly new tatami mats that replaced the blood-soaked ones from the vision/genjutsu Itachi showed him. He swallows and heads to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

He checks the fridge, finding it empty save for a couple jars of various pickled vegetables and an enormous bottle of shiro shōyu—Otō-san’s preferred soy sauce. Someone must have cleared out all the perishables while he was in hospital. There’s still rice in the cupboard, and a few canned goods—but it seems like the head Uchiha family ate fresh, for the most part.

He’ll have to do some grocery shopping.

It hits him then, that he’s an eight-year-old child and the village is expecting him to look out for himself from now on. And, oh god, he doesn’t know how to cook or clean, or anything!

Well, he’s pretty sure he knows how—it’s just both his mom and Sasuke’s mom handled it for him. He’s pretty sure an obā-san from the village and her daughter did most of the cleaning in Sasuke’s home, too.

He grits his teeth and heads upstairs to change into something lighter. The high collar of his blue-black shirt almost suffocated him walking from the hospital.

He’s left staring at his—Sasuke’s—collection of floppy turtlenecks. He knows it’s the traditional Uchiha style, but come on! He’s gonna die from heat stroke if he doesn’t find something else to wear in this heat!

Kyōji goes through every drawer, trying hard not to feel like he’s intruding—these are his crappy turtlenecks now, yeah!—and stumbles upon a jinbei. It’s navy with thin stripes and slightly too big. It used to be Itachi’s.

After a moment of curbing the instinct to burn it with a Katon jutsu, he shrugs and puts it on.

His stomach is already growling, so he heads back downstairs to collect the wicker basket by the kitchen, and leaves through the side door. His geta are still on the stone step leading off the engawa, hot from the sun beating down. He steps into them and jogs the whole way to the Uchiha-ku gate.

Kyōji doesn’t have to think too hard about the directions to the market. They come to him as he goes.

The village market is more or less civilian, so no one recognizes him until he has to pay and flashes his clan seal to stamp the ledger. It’s like a credit card, or something.

He gets a startled look from the vendor then—it’s rare for civilians to be up to date with shinobi comings-and-goings, but he figures a massacre of an entire clan is kind of hard to cover up.

“Sasuke-kun?”

He looks up, nerves racing. He’s still not great at putting names to faces. Thankfully, this is someone very recognizable, thanks to the scar across the bridge of his nose.

“Iruka-sensei. Good afternoon.”

Iruka-sensei is wearing his usual chūnin outfit, toting a flimsy canvas bag. He’s shopping as well.

“G-Good afternoon?”

He holds back Sasuke’s knee jerk reaction to snort. Seriously—where the hell did that even come from? From what Kyōji can tell, Sasuke had (mostly) good manners and a more or less happy childhood. He’d describe young Sasuke as having a pleasant disposition, even.

His best guess is that the Sasuke half of him is taking Itachi’s last words to heart. He is not looking forward to tamping that down. Kyōji’s not an avenger type character—more like a detective type, you know? He’s got his All-Seeing Eye, and Sasuke’s Sharingan—a killer combination!

He and Iruka-sensei are shopping at the same stall now, and he figures this is as good a time as any to find out what his schooling situation is looking like.

“Ne, Sensei? Did I miss anything in class?”

“Oh, ah, not much.” Iruka scratches the back of his neck. “Actually, everyone was so concerned that we didn’t get much work done at all.”

“Hn-n…?” He’s not surprised. Sasuke’s top of the class, and everyone practically worships him.

“Have you decided if you’re returning to class in September?” Iruka-sensei asks.

“When does class resume?”

“September 1st,”

Same as in real life, or his other real life. He thinks maybe this qualifies as real life now—it doesn’t seem like he’s going to wake up from it, at least.

“I’ll be there, Sensei.”

Iruka-sensei pays for a handful of vegetable with coins, and Kyōji pays for his with the stamp again.

“Say, Sasuke-kun… Are you thinking about trying for an early graduation?”

Typically, students attend the Academy from the age of eight until twelve, with some attending earlier or attempting the graduation exam early. He thinks about it.

He knows he could probably pass right now—he’s top of the class and he knows a lot more than what they’ve covered in their course work so far. His taijutsu and shurikenjutsu are near chūnin level, and Katon: Gōkakyū no Jutsu is a C-rank ninjutsu. He also has a handle on the henge and kawarimi jutsu.

But, he’s also eight and even if he were still thirteen, he can’t even imagine he(himself) graduating and going off to kill people. Because that’s what ninja have to do in this world.

“I think it’d be best if I graduate with everyone else, Iruka-sensei.”

Suddenly, Iruka-sensei is ruffling his hair.

“I think that’s a good idea, too, Sasuke-kun.”

He feels the slightest flush on his cheeks and pats his hair back down. He’s been struggling with it.

“Well, see you later, Sensei. Have a nice day.”

“Sasuke-kun…”

“…?”

“Take care of yourself.”


	5. his (not his)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It hurts his pride as Sakaido Kyōji, but his All-Seeing Eye is clearly inferior to the Sharingan.

He tries—he _really_ tries.

But cooking is hard. Cleaning is hard. Training is h—actually, training is pretty easy. (Go figure.)

It’s probably muscle memory—because Kyōji is the opposite of athletic, and he thinks he would have been in serious trouble if Sasuke’s memories and experiences didn’t translate. He couldn’t even do a cartwheel before, and now he can walk on his hands, do back flips, front flips, aerials, and half a dozen others that probably have names in the Olympics but are otherwise too trivial to be named in the world of _Naruto._

But he’s not a total idiot. Fancy flips aside he knows if he doesn’t figure out the whole cooking thing he’ll starve himself to death or at least run into nutritional issues. He can’t just live off fried rice and eggs. 

Well, maybe?

Either way, thank goodness they have electricity and rice cookers here. There’s a TV in his room too, but there’s only, like, four channels. One of them is audio-only too. A radio station, he thinks.

So, he’s hanging out in Uchiha-ku, waiting for his laundry to dry so he has something other than his yukata to wear, when he notices the chicken coop in his neighbor’s backyard.

His heart leaps up in his throat, thinking that he’s let Chiharu-obā-chan’s chickens starve to death.

But there’re no chickens there.

Come to think of it, there’s been no roosters crowing since he got back, or dogs barking, or cats meowing.

Kyōji supposes someone went through the village and took all the orphaned animals. That, or Itachi literally killed everyone and everything in Uchiha-ku. But he doubts the latter. Itachi liked to feed the crows and the cats.

He hops the neighbor’s fence and goes to investigate the coop.

It’s pretty simple, and not that heavy. He enjoyed taking care of the pet rabbit at school. How hard could caring for a couple chickens be?

Before he can talk himself out of it, he’s picking up the whole coop and gently laying it down on the other side of the fence. A couple minutes later it’s in his own yard. He needs to find someone to buy chickens from—or pester Sandaime-sama to return the chickens taken from Uchiha-ku. Assuming they didn’t get butchered and eaten.

So, he finds himself feeding three chickens every morning.

He’s also made a note of all the ponds that contain koi in Uchiha-ku, since whoever repossessed the animals forgot the fish. He even bought a couple of books on how to care for each.

Kyōji thinks, if being a ninja doesn’t pan out, maybe he’ll become a chicken farmer—or something.

It’s September first; summer vacation is over.

He arrives first to the Academy and finds his usual classroom, contemplating for a moment where he should sit.

On one hand, he could sit at the front so he doesn’t have to see everyone looking at him—because everyone _will_ be looking at him, secretly or not so secretly.

He could also sit in the back so that no one could look at him without him knowing. It’s a tough call to make.

In the end, he sits in the back right corner so he can not only see all his classmates but also have an unobstructed view of the windows and doors. Call him paranoid, he doesn’t care. It’s textbook survivalism.

He also only has to deal with one person sitting next to him, so bonus.

Kyōji rests his chin in one palm and flips through his textbook with the other hand—not that it matters. He already memorized all the school books with the Sharingan.

It hurts his pride as Sakaido Kyōji, but his All-Seeing Eye is clearly inferior to the Sharingan. He doesn’t even have to focus to memorize pages or images with the Sharingan. Just blink, stare, blink. Perfect memory. He doesn’t need to activate the Sharingan after the fact either, he just has to think about what he saw when it was active and it replays exactly as he saw it. Play, pause, rewind, fast forward.

So, he flips through his school books upside down instead, training his All-Seeing Eye in another way. Who knows, reading and memorizing things upside down might be useful at some point.

The first few students trickle in, but it’s no one he can put a name to—maybe. Pre-Sharingan Sasuke wasn’t the most observant kid on the block.

Kyōji tries to remember as many _Naruto_ characters as he can—but it’s not much. He knows his class should have the Rookie 9, but he’s struggling to remember all their names. He only heard about them in passing at the anime club, so he gets that _he_ doesn’t remember, but why the heck does Sasuke not know the names of _his_ classmates?! 

Ahh, he’s such a spoiled brat, Kyōji thinks.

The class fills up, and he puts names to faces with what little he knows of _Naruto_ and Sasuke’s piecy recollections. Shino, the boy with round black glasses; Chōji, he’s got a stocky build; Sakura, her pink hair is hard to miss; Hyūga—he senses a bit of inner derision there(stupid Byakugan, hn); Kiba, Akamaru—you never see one far from the other; Shikamaru, he’s already napping; Yamanaka Ino, she’s the one staring at him, of course.

Finally, Iruka-sensei enters with Naruto in tow, tied up and tossed over one shoulder like a sack of rice. 

Haha, dobe.

Ironically enough, the only available seat for Naruto is the one next to him. No one else wanted to try breaking the ice with him after the summer he had.

Naruto harrumphs and takes the seat next to him, pouting hard with eyes so narrowed he can’t possibly see anything.

Iruka-sensei welcomes them back and declares the morning session will be review from before summer break. They’ll practice forms and shuriken throws after lunch.

Naruto promptly puts his head down to take a nap, and Sasuke lets a quiet snort out. Of course the idiot didn’t bring his books or anything—he was too busy pranking somebody.

“Here, baka, at least try to follow along.”

He turns the book right-side up and pokes the corner into one of those whisker like marks. Naruto glares at him, hard.

“Page 32.”

“Hmmph!”

So, the book sits open between them, neither of them looking at it. He doesn’t need to, but Naruto should be trying, at least. He sighs. There’s just no curing stupidity.

Naruto doesn’t like him, and that’s something Sasuke has done nothing to change. From what he can tell from Sasuke’s memories, he finds the kid somewhat funny—but it’s in a way that stems from arrogance, he thinks.

Okay, so he’s still bad at judging feelings and peoples’ expressions. He might not understand what’s going on here, and the filter that is young Uchiha Sasuke is just as flawed as the bare-bones understanding that Kyōji’s been operating on all along.

That’s something he needs to work on. Kyōji is non-confrontational by nature—and Sasuke is so self-assured that he doesn’t give a shit if people like him or not. He always had his clan to fall back on in the past—and now he doesn’t care one way or the other, for reasons Kyōji is still muddling through.

“No one? Does no one know the answer?” Iruka-sensei asks.

He glances up at the board for a fraction of a second and scoffs. There’s a question with four possible answers written out for them to choose from—and it’s ripped straight from the textbook.

“It’s number three.”

“That’s correct.” Iruka-sensei smiles, but his eyebrow is twitching. “Please raise your hand next time, Sasuke-kun.”

“Yes, Sensei.” 

Ahh, he really has to work on his (not his) attitude.


	6. Respect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t bite my chopsticks, okay, dobe?”
> 
> “Jeez, I won’t, I’m not a baby, ‘ttebayo…!”

The morning crawls along, and then the bell for lunch finally rings. Naruto is up and gone in a matter of seconds—out the window, no less.

And the moment he’s gone, Ino is closing in on him, dragging Chōji behind her.

“Sasuke-kun! We brought you a bento! Choji’s okā-san helped us make it, so it’s really good!”

He freezes up. He brought his own bento(pathetic as it is), for one; and for two, the Sasuke side of him is bristling at the perceived pity.

“I brought a bento.”

Ino doesn’t seem bothered as she attempts to coerce him into taking the bento, regardless. Chōji deflates.

He… Kyōji hates bullies. He never wants to make anyone feel like less just to spare his own feelings. And Uchiha Sasuke can kiss his ass—he’s not driving—Kyōji'll take all the pity he can get!

“Chōji… do you like garden salad?”

Chōji looks surprised that he’s addressing him directly.

“Garden s-salad?”

“Yeah, salad made with whatever was in the garden.” His mother’s garden didn’t do as well this year without her taking care of it, but he tried. “I have a lot of vegetable but almost no protein. Let’s split it up instead. I can’t eat two bento.”

He opens up his bento, even though he swore no one would see it, and gestures for Ino to do the same. Chōji opens his as well. He’s the only one with three whole layers.

Kyōji’s top layer is garden salad and boiled eggs. He hesitates to reveal the bottom. It’s an entire layer of fried rice with mushrooms, onions, and sweet potatoes.

He rips the bandage that is his frail ego off with a flourish. They might as well know he can cook three things right now.

“That’s…a lot of rice.” Ino catches the slight glower he sends her and corrects herself quickly. “Not that there’s anything wrong with rice, Sasuke-kun!”

“I love fried rice,” Chōji agrees.

So, he trades out half his fried rice for grilled shrimp, fried chicken, and beef and broccoli teriyaki. Ino crams in a rice ball with a smiley face. Her creation, no doubt.

“Thanks, guys. I hope the rice tastes okay, Chōji.”

Ino’s in the middle of saying ‘itadakimasu’ when he stands up.

“I’m gonna eat outside…by myself.” _I hope you don’t mind…!_ He thinks. His Sasuke half is bristling at the idea of making friends and bonding over bento.

Chōji nods understandingly. “The rice is good! Thanks for the trade, Sasuke.”

He heads out to Academy courtyard and sits in the shade amongst the trees with a small sigh. Dealing with people is… troublesome.

He jumps when he hears a stomach rumbling nearby. It startles him enough that he launches a chopstick, à la senbon.

“Ita!” Naruto shouts. He shoots up from the long grass to glare around, rubbing his forehead. 

He spots Sasuke. 

“What’s the big idea, teme?!”

Kyōji shuts his gaping mouth. He had no idea Naruto was out here at all—and he’s usually half-way decent at spotting people hiding in obscure locations. He’s had some practice with the ANBU tailing him from time to time. 

Naruto’s stomach growls again and his lip twitches. He just attempted to maim the main character with a chopstick!

“Just bring the chopstick over, baka. I’ll give you some of my bento.”

Naruto turns his nose up at him, but his stomach growls yet again and his cheeks burn bright red. He reluctantly gives in and scoots over.

He gives Naruto the other chopstick and pulls his knees up to his chest.

“Don’t bite my chopsticks, okay, dobe?”

“Jeez, I won’t, I’m not a baby, ‘ttebayo…!”

Kyōji takes Ino’s handmade onigiri and breaks off the top to see if there’s anything inside of it. Umeboshi. He doesn’t like pickled plum. He eats the rice he broke off then offers the rest to Naruto.

“I don’t like umeboshi. Do you?”

“I ain’t picky, but ramen’s the best, ‘ttebayo!”

Sasuke snorts. Well, he snorted a bit too.

“Soba is far superior.”

“Teme, you take that back!”

He snorts again, but it’s the laughing sort. They’re seriously arguing about noodles?

He glances at his bento and jumps.

“Oi! Naruto, don’t eat the whole thing!”

“Ah, sorry, my bad.” He doesn’t sound the least bit remorseful as he hands it back.

Kyōji sighs. He ate all the meat he traded from Chōji, save for the shrimp. Whatever. At least he didn’t touch his salad.

They spend their afternoon classes outside practicing kata and shurikenjutsu, as Iruka-sensei promised. Sasuke dominates in shurikenjutsu, obviously.

After that, everyone heads home, and Sasuke disappears before anyone can try approaching him.

He’s got four years to get his life in order—he doesn’t have time for anyone distracting him with questions right now!

Kyōji knows Sasuke started the series off as being the strongest member on the team, with some glaring character issues outside of his ability to kick ass.

And while he now has a basic understanding of Konoha and Hi no Kuni, he knows it’s still only from the perspective of an eight-year-old spoiled clan brat.

There are probably some things he should try to learn outside classes. Not to mention, he might want to go to the bookstore or the library to look for some self-help books on cooking and cleaning. There’s gotta be books on household organization—someone _somewhere_ has to be channeling Konmari!

So, for the first week back to school, he makes the same bento and does the same trade with Ino and Chōji. He shares with Naruto when he’s not off pranking the teachers or escaping the Academy with Kiba.

He finds some books on cooking—one specifically for bento—and another book on household organization. It’s clearly written for aspiring housewives, but whatever—gender roles aside, he’s not picky.

With the help of the Sharingan, which he’s getting better at turning on and off, he memorizes everything in the books. He learns it’s actually pretty tiring(chakra—it’s a chakra intensive task), but he figures it’s good practice for maybe using it in combat, later. Much later, he hopes.

It doesn’t change the fact that he thinks the Sharingan is such a hack. He practiced his All-Seeing Eye technique for literal years and he activates the Sharingan once as Uchiha Sasuke and it just pisses all over it. He can rip techniques off almost anyone and cheat on every exam by virtue of his perfect recall for the entire curriculum.

The fact that Uchiha Sasuke had top grades before the Sharingan at least means he was obsessive about learning and memorization before the Sharingan. Kyōji can at least respect a know-it-all who has to work for it.

On the other hand, he hasn’t shown his Sharingan to anyone besides Yamanaka-sama. He hasn’t used it in class, and won’t. He’s not sure how his new classmates will react to him having it—Kyōji’s classmates from before didn’t find his All-Seeing Eye amusing when he flaunted it, after all.

He wonders when original Sasuke unlocked his Sharingan. Kyōji’s pretty sure he didn’t have it at the beginning of the series.

Part of him wants to believe _he_ activated it—or his All-Seeing Eye technique activated it. 

But, he’s pretty sure it wasn’t he, himself, who unlocked it. He certainly didn’t mean to use it that first time. It just kind of happened when he was remembering the genjutsu Itachi put him under.


	7. Mizuki’s angle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naruto _is_ cool—once you get to know him.

Week two. He finally brings a more balanced bento to school with him. Kyōji practiced cooking all weekend after watching half a dozen street vendors.

He didn’t use the Sharingan either. He’s decided to keep working on his All-Seeing Eye regardless of it. Having keen eyes and a quick mind is a hallmark of the Uchiha anyhow.

“Sasuke-kun, your bento is so cute!”

He tries not to grumble. It’s not cute—it’s balanced! 

He’s also taken to using the larger bento box, the one Kā-san used for Otō-san when he worked long hours with the police force—because he shares with Naruto. He probably should just make him his own—but then he has to admit he’s making extras for Naruto. At least this way, he can just say he’s hungry.

Back to Ino, though. She squealed, so of course everyone wants to see his supposedly cute bento.

Everyone crowds around to see, and he folds his hands in front of his mouth to hide the scowl that is threatening to emerge. There are some oohhs and ahhs. Kiba comments that it smells good, and Shino praises it for its professional appearance.

He still trades with Chōji, and trying to get that out of the way ends with everyone wanting to trade something. By the time he escapes, his bento is no longer his—he’s pretty sure everything in it is traded from his classmates.

When he finds Naruto, handing him the extra chopsticks, they have a Franken-bento to behold.

They both laugh at the state of the bento, and Naruto makes a game of guessing what belonged to who. He does surprisingly well.

“Well, yeah, you are what you eat, ‘ttebayo!”

He quirks an eyebrow at Naruto, waiting for him to explain.

“It’s like, you know, Shikamaru smells like fish sometimes. I think he likes kelp too. Chōji gave him sukonbu the other day and he actually liked it, dattebayo!”

He represses a shiver. Urk! Kelp? Really, Shikamaru?

“And Sakura-chan smells so sweet, ‘ttebayo! I bet she likes sweet things!”

Kyōji resists Sasuke’s urge to roll their eyes at Naruto. 

After lunch, they head out for taijutsu and sparring practice. Mizuki-sensei is assisting today.

Iruka and Mizuki pair up kids by roughly equal talent—but Mizuki calls for Sasuke and Naruto to spar together instead.

He hears Iruka saying Naruto should pair with someone closer to his own skill—they’ll learn more that way. But Mizuki is insisting that Naruto will learn more from Sasuke.

He’s not sure what Mizuki’s angle is. Because every time he wins a bout against Naruto, and Mizuki dusts him off, whispering in Naruto’s ear as he does, Naruto gets up angrier than before.

He already knows Naruto has a temper and is quick to see insults and even quicker to retaliate. So, by the end of the lesson, Naruto’s ears are steaming—he’s furious with him.

Kyōji doesn’t want that. He’s pretty sure Sasuke doesn’t want that. Naruto’s actually been the easiest person to get along with since after the massacre and him becoming Sasuke.

He catches up to Naruto as class lets out.

“Naruto…! Do you want to come over to my place?”

The angry pout abruptly disappears.

“Like, your house?” He still sounds suspicious.

“Un,”

“Why?”

Now he feels a little shy. He doesn’t want to come out and say he doesn’t want Naruto to be upset with him.

“I figured I could teach you some grappling maneuvers…” 

Naruto doesn’t look pleased with that. 

“And you can pet my chickens—they’re really tame.” He throws in, because who doesn’t love chickens? They’re the best!

“Chickens?”

“Yeah! I’ve got three hens right now. Gorō-oji at the market says I should get a rooster and start breeding them.” He’s considering it—Gorō-oji would buy the chicks and extra eggs he would have for trying.

Naruto is fixing him with a look so incredulous right now that he’s pretty sure he thinks Sasuke is pulling his leg.

“Come on, it’ll be fun!”

Kyōji grabs him by the arm and starts leading him towards Uchiha-ku before he can protest.

It turns into a race and they end up sprinting the entire way there. They’re both huffing and puffing at the end.

“I’ll, I’ll make some juice. Tomato or orange?”

“Orange! Who the heck drinks tomato juice?!”

“I do, baka!”

He leads Naruto to the kitchen. It’s kind of messy, with all the cooking he’s been doing—but it is clean where it counts—the counters. Naruto doesn’t seem to care one way or another.

He’s peeking out the window over the sink, having at least the manners to wash his hands before eating or drinking.

“Oi, teme! Are those your chickens?!”

“Who else would they belong to, usuratonkachi?”

Naruto doesn’t snap back for that.

He hands Naruto a glass of orange juice and sits at the kitchen table. It’s only ever set for two. When he had a family, they sat at the low table in the traditional room out front. The kitchen table was more for eating on the run, or something.

They gulp down the juice and head out to the backyard. He opens the coop door.

“Watch out for Buttercup, she jumps over the fence sometimes.”

“Which one is Buttercup?”

Buttercup flaps her wings and pitches over the fence.

“That one.”

Naruto laughs and chases after her.

He brings her back without an issue—she runs away but is super docile. He’s never been pecked or scratched yet.

They play with the chickens for a bit—but Naruto isn’t actually opposed to sparring.

“Ano sa—were you serious about teaching me stuff?”

“Un.”

“Yosha! When do we start?”

Kyōji didn’t think that far ahead yet. He knows some grappling and stuff, obviously—he’s the best at taijutsu for a reason. It’s just… knowing it and teaching it are two different things.

“The first step to learning to grapple is… having a firm stance.”

So, he teaches Naruto what he knows from the bottom up, more or less. Because, honestly, Naruto’s fighting style is an absolute disaster. The only thing he has going for him is that he just never gives up or tires out.

They grow closer during the month of September. No one seems to notice either. It’s funny how they all think Sasuke is so cool, and Naruto is so _not_ cool, and yet they don’t even realize the two of them are thick as thieves.

Weird, Sasuke thinks, because Naruto _is_ cool—once you get to know him.


End file.
